A Toast to the Grooms
by Rebelcat
Summary: I said I'd never write Slash, and then I did. Consider this an AU. It's K rated, ie G, and mostly harmless.


**Title:** A Toast to the Grooms

**Author:** Rebelcat

**Series:** Starsky and Hutch

**Codes:** S/H, LTR

**Rating:** G – yup, my first ever slash fic, and it's G. Go figure.

**Spoilers:** None. Not a sausage. Not even a Polish sausage. Ahem.

**Warning:** Well, it IS Slash. But it's G-rated slash. Written by a Gen writer. And it's funny (I hope!).

**Summary:** Response to the Sunday Discussion topic on the Me&Thee list to answer the question of what words Starsky and/or Hutch would use to toast each other at a commitment ceremony/wedding thingy, assuming they were marrying each other. Which they'd have to, if it was a slash tale – that is, unless Hutch discovered that his true love was really Huggy, and Starsky ran off with Dobey… That would indeed be a disturbing universe.

**Disclaimer:** This is all my husband's fault. He supplied the first line and I had no choice but to write the thing. I was helpless, I tell you, helpless!

Oh, and none of the characters belong to me.

**Thanks To:** KimberlyFDR for coming up with the topic in the first place, and turning a perfectly respectable gen writer into something bi-fictional. It's her fault, too. I'm utterly blameless in this one.

**Apologies To:** Everyone. But most particularly KimberlyFDR because I didn't actually answer the question properly, and because I turned what was supposed to be a discussion into a fic. I'm really, really bad at following instructions.

**Dedication:** I'm dedicating this one to my husband, because he's giving me that pained expression that says he wants it.

**Beta:** (mad laughter) I mean, uh, no.

**Feedback:** Is adored. Excessively. Frighteningly, even.

**Archiving:** I like to know. It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

**Quote:**

"…a Starsky without a Hutch is like a pig without the pork."

Huggy, A Body Worth Guarding­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­

* * *

_A crowded restaurant in San Francisco, February, 2004_

"If I had known you two were sticking your guns in each other's holsters all these years…"

"Harold, let them speak!" Horrified, Edith Dobey grabbed her husband's arm and pulled him back down into his seat. The boys (odd that she couldn't help but think of them that way even after all these years) gave their former captain matching pairs of indulgent smiles and then raised their wine glasses.

The restaurant erupted into a roar. "Toast, toast!"

Under the cover of the noise, Rosie Dobey inclined her head towards her father's ear and said, "Daddy, I think it's sweet." The baby in her arms stirred, its face crumpling in protest at the noise. She rocked her child, soothing her with a competence that made Edith smile.

"Yeah, Dad," said Cal, leaning forward with his elbows on the table, so he could see past his sister to his father. "This is the New Millennium. Gay marriage is breaking out all over." He started to stroke his niece's soft baby curls, only to snatch his hand back at Rosie's glare.

"If you wake her, Cal, I swear…"

"I wasn't going to--"

Edith broke into the imminent argument, cutting Dobey off before he could join the fray. "You all hush! I want to hear what they're saying!"

She had used what Cal often referred to as 'the voice of Doom', and her family gave her no argument, settling down obediently. Satisfied, Edith took a moment to appreciate just how handsome her boys looked. David had matured nicely, and the silver strands threaded through his still abundant curls suited him very well. Ken? Well, all she could say about Ken was; thank goodness he'd finally given up on that comb over. And that he wore a tux with undeniable grace and elegance.

Edith focused her attention on their words just in time to hear David say, "Hutch, if we get that judge to marry us tomorrow, or if we don't, it won't change a thing. You know I ain't gonna promise to obey you and you already got all of my love an' honor…"

Dobey snorted, and muttered something about "honor" under his breath.

Edith hadn't heard exactly what he'd said, but she was sure it was rude. "Harold!"

His broad face crumpled into a pained expression, as he looked over at her. "It just ain't natural…"

Edith's response was firm. "It's natural for _them._"

"Plus, we all figured it out years ago," added Cal.

Rosie nodded. "It's not like they were ever really in the closet."

Another round of cheering erupted in the restaurant, followed by the clatter of forks enthusiastically applied to the rims of wine glasses. Dobey glanced at his daughter just in time to see her stuff his granddaughter under her shawl to nurse. Quickly he looked up, just as the party guests began to chant, "Kiss him! Kiss him! Kiss him!"

Somewhere under all the noise he was certain he had NOT heard a female voice shout, "Starsky, take your pants off!" No, he hadn't heard that one at all. Nor the ensuing laughter.

"Kiss him! Kiss him!"

"Oh God," Dobey groaned, as Starsky and Hutch eyed each other speculatively. "They're not going to kiss each other, are they?"

"It's a wedding, Harold," said Edith. "Of course there will be kissing!"

"Hey, I wonder what it means if I catch the bouquet?" asked Cal, grinning at his father.

Dobey's face darkened and Edith leaned over quickly to reprimand her son. "Cal, don't tease your father."

Grimly, Dobey forced himself to watch as the two men he'd come to consider sons locked lips, publicly acknowledging their lifelong commitment to each other in front of family and friends.

Starsky was taking the lead, dipping Hutch over backwards, and it occurred to Dobey that he'd actually seen them do this before. No one dips like Ramon. Except that this wasn't Ramon, some fictional character, this was Starsky. And Hutch returned the embrace with enthusiasm, taking control, and bending Starsky back in turn.

Dobey blinked. _He's been taking lessons from Starsky._ Then he winced as Hutch's hip hit the table and several pieces of cutlery and plate went crashing to the floor. _Still clumsy, though._

He was surprised to discover that the two of them kissing each other was not as disturbing a sight as he'd expected it to be. Maybe Edith had been right. They did look as if they belonged together, as much a matched set now as they'd ever been before, always joined at the hip…

Oh hell, now _there _was an image he didn't need.

Dobey heaved a heavy sigh, and reached for his wine glass. He couldn't deny that there seemed to be something inevitable about the two of them ending up together.

Unnatural?

The room fell into sudden silence as Dobey stood, his hands braced on the table. He cleared his throat and looked at the faces staring up at him. Some of them looked worried, but Starsky and Hutch were giving him those same expectant, trusting grins that they'd always had, smiles that hadn't changed at all in over forty years.

"I guess I was the last here to figure out what you two are to each other," said Dobey, slowly. "My wife, she says what you got is natural. For you. I guess that makes some sense. You two jokers never followed anyone's rules but your own." His voice softened. "It's what made you such damn fine officers. And partners."

There was an uncomfortable pause, as Dobey tried to figure out how to wrap up his speech without sounding like a fool.

Then he felt his wife rise to stand at his elbow. "What he means to say is; congratulations to you both."

As they sat down amid enthusiastic applause, Dobey glowered at his wife. "That wasn't what I meant to say."

Her expression was serene. "Of course it was, dear."

**The end!**


End file.
